


Surface Tension

by thelonebamf



Category: Metal Gear Solid
Genre: Depression, Dysfunctional Family, Early in Canon, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Isolation, Pre-Relationship, thinly veiled anime references around every corner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 02:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21330577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelonebamf/pseuds/thelonebamf
Summary: Hal doesn't want much. To be a good student. A good brother. A good son.To be part of something.A family.To be loved.Hal seldom gets what he wants.
Relationships: Julie Danziger/Otacon
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	Surface Tension

“You have to at least pretend to be a part of this family sometimes.” 

“I don’t know any of those people. Those kids aren’t my friends.”

“I know that. Do you think I actually like any of the people we invited here today?”

“Don’t you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Hal. You have five minutes to come outside.”

Hal rolls over on his bed. Butted up the wall as it is, it’s easy to reach out and dig a fingernail beneath the pointed tip of a plastic glow in the dark star. Sometimes at night, he’ll stare at them until his vision grows hazy and their light slowly dims. He can pretend he’s drifting off into space. It’s quiet there. And he’s alone.

Which is altogether preferable to what he’s about to face, the din of the part downstairs just barely audible on the other side of the door. 

With a sigh, Hal pulls open a drawer, pulls out some swim trunks and a faded t-shirt with a near bleached out image of the Esperanza and its crew. It’s not one of his favorites, but it’s not like he’s expecting it to be much of a conversation starter with anyone outside.

There are so many children. Running and screaming and playing little clapping games and singing and spilling soda and cake and chips on the ground. None of them look his way when he finally steps outside, sliding the glass door shut behind him. A few of their parents glance at him, but their eyes flicker from his face to his father’s and soon enough they’ve returned to their conversations, limited curiosity satisfied enough.

The only one who marks his presence with any real excitement is Emma. She runs over from the patio table, half a hot dog and bun left to grow cold. She takes his hands and pulls him towards the pool.

“Mom said I had to wait for you to get in the water,” she explains, her smile toothy and wide. “And she said I have to wear floaties, even though I can swim just fine. Even underwater.”

She can, Hal notes. But it’s probably for the best. The adults are all absorbed in their small talk, only occasionally casting an eye towards the pool. He suspects he’s out here to play lifeguard just as much as the part of a big brother.

Emma slips into an inner tube before splashing into the water, but he imagines it’s more for the cute character than fear of drowning. It’s a silly looking thing, with eye stalks and legs sticking out of its brightly colored body, which does a lot to bring out the red in his step-sister’s hair. Soon she’s kicking and splashing and calling out for him to watch as she jumps into the water, begging for him to join her.

Eventually he obliges, and at least the water is warm. Standing chest deep in the pool is enough to make him seem engaged, and it satisfies Emma, who swims tiny laps around him, singing a song about sea creatures he’s sure she made up. 

“Hal? Is that you? You’ve gotten so tall!”

He looks towards the edge of the pool, up into the face of one of his father’s guests. He forces the edges of his lips up into something that could generously be called a smile just as Emma swims in front of him, ramming the side of her float into his chest. 

“Y-yes,” he manages.

_ It’s Hal _

_ I’m me. _

“It’s me.” He has no idea who the man is, but it doesn’t seem to matter.

“Of course it is. You’re a dead ringer for the old man. Plus I hear you’ve got the same Emmerich smarts? Attaboy. You think you could tutor my son? You must remember Kevin. You’re just about the same age. Wish he had have your brain. Coach says he’ll have to bench him if he can’t get his Algebra scores up. Course you don’t have that problem, do you, Hal?” 

“No, sir.” But the man is already laughing and walking away, gesturing his empty glass in the air towards his wife.

“Hal! Let go!” 

Hal looks down at his sister who is trying to kick away; she’s making little headway fighting against his grip. His fingers dig into the plastic of her tube, nearly white with the effort of holding on to the slick surface. As soon as he realizes what he’s doing, he lets go, and soon she’s splashing away.

Hal waits exactly twenty two minutes before finally allowing himself to climb out of the water, wring his shirt out on the patio and pull open the sliding glass door that leads inside. 

Julie is there. Her back is to him, but he can see she’s busy readying another tray of drinks and food to take outside. Her hair is down in loose waves, slipping back and forth over her shoulders as she works. 

Hal says nothing to her, leaving only wet footprints behind as he returns to his room.

It’s late when Hal comes back downstairs. The house is finally quiet, the air still as a sliver of moonlight makes itself seen through his blinds.

“There you are, Hal. I was wondering where you’d hidden yourself away.”

Julie is resting on the sofa, one elbow bent gracefully over the arm while the other holds a cigarette she seems to have forgotten. He nods at her, a jerky droop of the head before turning to escape back to his room. 

“Already leaving me?”

Hal stops long enough to turn and shrug uneasily, eking out his words with caution.

“I didn’t mean to bother you. I was just getting some water before I go back to…” His gaze travels up the stairwell that leads to his own quiet room. The children have rooms side by side overlooking the pool. His parents sleep downstairs.

“Your work. I understand.” There must be something left of her cigarette after all, because she brings it to her lips for a lingering pull as he eyes drift closed. “You’re so much like him.”

Hal sits down. 

“I thought it would be easier,” she says after a moment of silence. “Being married to your father.”

“He’s a brilliant man,” Hal supplies, as though it explains anything at all. 

Julie lets a single huff of air, but doesn’t open her eyes. “Yes. Brilliant. And creative. Dedicated. And single minded.” She turns her head back towards the television, program all but forgotten over the last several minutes.

With her attention elsewhere, Hal feels safe taking a moment to watch her. He’s never sure how long is too long to look at a person, just like he never knows if he’s speaking too quickly, too softly, or what to do with his hands. It’s all easier now, when nobody is watching.

She’s tired, or maybe it’s better to say she’s done with the day. Hal knows she spent hours on her feet, catering to guests, minding Emma and the other children, carrying on pleasant conversations.

Exhausting.

Her hair is up now, pulled into a messy bun that exposes the pale planes of her neck and shoulders, the thin strap of her party dress slipping down low. The flickering light from the television screen catches on the folds and creases of the satin, erratic ripples on a frozen lake.

By the time Hal remembers to breathe, his lungs are aching, and he begins to cough, shoulders bucking as he fails to bury the sound in his sleeve. 

Julie studies him, her head shifting back, eyes lidded. Her cigarette has burnt down to ash and she snuffs out the last of its glow before lighting another. 

“I think I’ll just finish this program,” she tells him, turning away. “Stay with me until it ends.”

She isn’t looking at him any longer, though her attention is hardly held by the television screen. The casual twitch of her fingers as a thin curl of smoke winds its way between them is the only movement she makes at all.

Unseen in the darkness that shrouds the rest of the room, Hal nods. 

Hal stays.

* * *

“You’re so good with her, Hal.”

He looks up from his spot on the floor, just beside where Emma has fallen asleep. Eyes closed, body still, she looks so small. In her waking hours she seems to take up so much space. Usually, Emma is always moving, always talking, always crawling a little bit closer until she fills the void Hal has carefully carved out around himself. It’s an alien feeling, but he isn’t sure that he minds. 

Julie is looking down at them both, a drink half finished in her hand, cubes of ice clinking softly against each other as she takes a slow sip, leaving rose colored kisses behind on the glass. 

“It’s easy,” he offers, pushing himself up. “She likes playing the same kind of games over and over.”

It’s always some version of ‘house’. Idyllic make-believe stories of wedded bliss and domesticity. Hal is never sure if he’s playing the game quite right, having little frame of reference. It’s Emma who has had a family before, mother and father under one roof. She corrects him from time to time, but he suspects her demands are based more on what she’s seen on television than her own experience. 

“Children are never easy,” Julie sighs, glass sliding down to rest against her hip. “But I can see how you try. Your little nickname for her.  _ E.E. _ Emma Emmerich.” She gives him a slim smile. “It shows that you’ve really accepted her as your sister.”

“Of… of course.” Hal wonders why he feels embarrassed to admit it. Things might have been a little strange at first as he got used to what Julie called a “feminine presence” in the house, but he doesn’t even know if that applies to his step-sister. She’s just a kid, after all. 

He bends down to lift Emma up and move her to the sofa so she won’t wake with a sore neck and the texture of the carpet imprinted on her face. Having fallen asleep on his keyboard more than once, Hal can attest to how uncomfortable it is.

“You’re a good brother, Hal.” Julie reaches over, brushes a lock of auburn hair from her daughter’s face, and places a kiss on the girl’s temple. It’s close enough that Hal can feel her breath against his cheek. 

“Uh. Yeah. I… I guess so. Thanks.”

“You’ll make a good father someday, too.” Her fingers are cold as they slide down the edge of his jawline, tipping his chin up before breaking away at last.

“S-someday. Maybe.” 

He manages to slip around her without waking Emma. As soon as she’s settled on the sofa, Hal heads up to his room, holding his breath until the door is closed and he’s alone on the other side.

* * *

There are voices downstairs, but Hal can’t make out what they’re saying.

He knows it’s rude to listen in. Even if he can’t parse the meaning of their words, he knows the tone is one the two of them never use in front of him and Emma. 

In front of the children, his parents hardly speak at all.

So he tries not to listen, tries to focus on the show that’s playing on his computer screen. Despite some half-hearted efforts and the homemade flashcards scattered about his desk, he still hasn’t managed to learn the language. Most of the time it doesn’t matter. He can still appreciate the animation and design of the mech units on screen, can get caught up in the drama of the performances even if he doesn’t know exactly what the actors are saying. 

It can’t be a uniquely Japanese concept, the sacrifice of one’s self for the greater good. Not one’s life, necessarily, but the very concept of an individual identity outside of a group or community, so that every action served its purpose. To be a single gear in a great mechanation.

On some levels, it’s a frightening concept. But there are times when Hal can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be a part of something larger than himself. 

Downstairs, something breaks.

Hal’s headphones press tighter against the frames of his glasses, forcing the slender bits of metal against his temples as the lenses go askew. The picture on the screen is out of focus now, but he stares ahead at it anyway, figures wavering in and out of his sight as he struggles to concentrate on the show. 

Eventually it ends, and Hal feels safe at last, closing out the windows on his screen, opting to run a system scan before turning off the monitor with a heavy click of the button. He stares ahead as the display ripples and wavers before shrinking down to a pinpoint of light, leaving him with the sight of his own clouded reflection. 

He wonders if he should head downstairs, but the fear of doing or saying the wrong thing easily drowns out the potential for regret at his own inaction. He’s never been adept at matters of feelings, anyway. Would probably only make things worse. 

In the end, Hal finds himself on his bed, fingernails picking at the tatty edges of a forgotten paragraph as he stares at the ceiling. He buries the side of his face in his pillow, breathing in the lingering smell of laundry soap and his own shampoo. It isn’t a pleasant smell, not exactly, but it his room is one of the few places where the cloying scent of tobacco has yet to pervade.

It’s quiet now. 

But that doesn’t make it easier to sleep.

* * *

Hal is used to the silence that greets him when he comes home from school. Even with two more people in the house (bringing the total up to  _ three _ , he muses), Emma’s school gets out a full hour later. She tends to stay after class anyway for swimming lessons or computer club, while Julie is usually out shopping or meeting with other people he assumes are her friends. It isn’t until just before dinner time that there’s anyone else around.

He winces when he realizes he left his door open this morning, slipping up either due to a lack of sleep or a lack of desire to leave at all he can’t say. The door is almost closed behind him when he realizes he isn’t alone.

Julie is there, sitting on his bed, cross legged and nursing a glass of something that makes Hal’s nose wrinkle even at this distance. She doesn’t look up at him, her attention instead focused on the model in her hand. 

“The Master Grade series just started coming out last year,” he offers, not knowing what else to say. “There’s only five of them out so far, but the lineup for the rest of the year looks pretty impressive. I’m still working on my detailing but I think I did okay on that one. Next time I think I’ll-”

“Robots.” The word hangs in the air like a curse.

“Um. Yes? Well, I guess strictly speaking, piloted mecha aren’t robots since they aren’t fully automated in the conventional-”

“More robots,” she sighs as the figure slips from her fingers before landing softly on her lap. She turns her attention to the rest of the room, gaze sailing across the overcrowded shelves and walls. 

Hal shifts on his feet, suddenly self conscious of the figures he’s labored over, the diagrams he’s pulled from magazines and taped together. He’s spent countless hours picking apart the details and minutiae of any number of episodes and movies, relishing every shared line of text and discussion with the faceless others who share his fascination. But now, for the first time, his passion is being scrutinized by a living, breathing person.

Now it all seems so petty. Small. 

“You’re so talented Hal,” Julie says, looking at him at last. “Intelligent. Bright as… as a star.” She pulls herself to her feet, sending a few stray droplets from her glass onto the bedspread as the figure tumbles forgotten to the floor. She raises her free hand to his face, fingernails barely ghosting down the edge of his jawline.

“So much like-” she pauses, eyes traveling down the thin line of the boy’s nose, lingering where his lips are twitching.

Hal only lasts a moment, before turning his head, fumbling with his glasses as an excuse to look away.

“But you’re so sensitive,” she breathes deep. “A gentle soul. You’d never hurt anyone, would you Hal? Not Emma.” Her fingers curl a lock of unkempt hair behind his ear. “Not me.”

“Of… of course not.” The words are out before he even has a chance to think about them. Before he can understand what she’s really asking. 

“You’re a good boy,” her smile is soft, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

She squeezes his shoulder as she turns to leave the room and Hal forces himself to stomach the cold tendrils of uncertainty coiling deep inside of him. It’s not a feeling you’re supposed to have. Not around family.

* * *

It’s Saturday afternoon, maybe one of the last warm weekends before the autumn chill begins to settle in. Hal floats by himself in the pool, only half watching the clouds as they pass overhead. Emma, tired after the long afternoon, has already gone inside and so he remains, for a time, alone. The water laps up against his side, sucking gently at his fingertips and teasing the ends of his hair, keeping them from ever fully drying. Hal knows he shouldn’t linger too long, else he risks falling asleep and burning in the sun. 

He gives himself a few more minutes, closing his eyes to better hear the wind in the trees, the soft splash of the water, the distant sound of cars and street noise and strangers living their lives. It isn’t truly quiet out here, not to someone paying attention, but that in itself is a comfort.

The silence inside is deafening.

Hal gulps in a lungful of air and rolls off of his lounger, barely making a sound as he plunges into the water, hovering midway between the rocky ebbing of the surface and the smooth expanse of the floor below. He pushes his breath out in graceless bubbles before forcing himself to rise and greet the sun again.

He steps inside the house, hair limp around his ears, small droplets falling onto the kitchen tile. In an effort to minimize the mess he wraps a towel around his waist, cartoonish sharks and eels staring up at him with hungry mouths and empty eyes. 

“Hal?” Julie’s voice floats in from the other room.

“It’s just me,” he calls back, scowling at himself as he realizes no one else could have come through the door.

She shows up just in time to keep him from passing through the doorway and entering the rest of the house, nimble fingers ghosting over the pale skin of his shoulder, swiftly banishing a few errant droplets to the floor.

“Emma’s already napping upstairs,” she tells him, her eyes lingering on his throat before her expression softens and she rumples the soggy strands of his hair. “Why don’t you take your shower down here?”

There’s only one full bathroom downstairs, in the master bedroom Julie shares with his father, when he makes it home from work, anyway. Hal nods and pulls his towel a little closer to himself. A set of his sleeping clothes are already waiting for him on the sink; Julie tends to think ahead.

Even with the summer sun, Hal’s last fall into the water has his skin cold to the touch, and so for a time he stands motionless under the warmth spray. His mind wanders, conjuring up half remembered scenes from the last show he watched, the recollection blurred with the faces of people he knows. Emma’s hair is almost the same shade as one of the characters who just made an appearance, although it’s rarely as neatly styled.

Before the water can run cold he turns the handle, a damp squeak signaling the end of his idle musing. He dresses, flannel pants clinging to the back of his knees, thin shirt dragging against the dampness of his back.

Hal steps back out into the bedroom and is immediately set upon by the chill of the air. It forces itself into his chest, his lungs, filling all of his senses at once.

The air, and something else.

“Hal?”

“Sorry! I-I’m sorry!” He whimpers, stepping back all at once, retreating into what’s left of the evaporating warmth.

Julie says nothing, only finishes pulling down the top, tugging gently at the thin straps until they sit evenly on her shoulders.

“Goodness, Hal. You gave me quite a start.” She shakes her head and crosses her arms, but her gaze is unwavering.

Hal stares at the ceiling. “Sorry. I… I didn’t mean to snoop.”

“Snoop?” She laughs. It’s short and sharp. “I told you to take a shower in here, didn’t? You just surprised me, is all.” She reaches out, beckons lazily with one hand. “Come on. Out with you.”

Hal follows her, each step slow and unsure. He tells himself it was an accident, the sort of thing that happens all the time when you share a living space with other people. His heartbeat evens out, and the color gradually fades from his cheeks. For a moment, at least.

“Your problem, Hal,” Julie begins again, running her hands up and down the length of his arms, “is that you’re too tightly wound. He’s got you on edge all the time, hasn’t he? With his unreasonable demands, his expectations.”

Hal hadn’t been thinking about his father at all, but he can’t deny the truth.

“Well,” she squeezes his hands, pulls him further into the room. There’s an old movie playing on the television against the wall. Some old classic romance in black and white. “You don’t have to be so nervous. Not in this house. Not with me.”

She smiles at him again and it’s like ice, cold and crystal. But it silences the anxious heat that had been building in him for longer than he’d realized.

“Come now,” she instructs him, pulling him towards the bed and smoothing out the duvet with one hand. “Relax. Let’s watch this together.”

He nods, surprised at how easy it is to do what Julie asks.

Hal sits.

Hal stays.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a story I've been thinking about writing for a long time. Hal is a character that's grown to mean a lot to me over the years, and it's always disheartening to see what happened to him in his past reduced to a joke, or when the effects of that kind of abuse are understated. I wanted to shine a light on what I thought might have happened during a very vulnerable time in his life, and expose the fractures that eventually ended up shattering as the family broke apart.
> 
> I wrote this story for the "Metal Gear Solid: Lost Years" zine that came out in Fall 2019. It was illustated by the talented Elikilokal who really understood what I was trying to get at with this story and I think did a remarkable job capturing it on the page. Digital versions of the zine are available on Gumroad now and if you are a fan of Metal Gear and want more of those hidden, unsung moments, I reccomend checking it out.


End file.
